Automatonophobia
by Sugarcoated Reverie
Summary: Since its grand reopening in late 1987, many have been anxious about the dolled up animatronics. It is said that Fazbear Entertainment is committed to family fun and, above all, safety. A certain night guard would gladly oppose that statement. [ EXPERIMENTAL ONESHOT, RATED T FOR CURSING ]


_He who gifted empty vessels life._

"Hey there, little one. Is it your birthday today?"

_Once empty vessels that were gifted life. _

"Haha! Well, I know the perfect gift: a cupcake!"

_Sentience defined as awareness._

"Or maybe a good rock-and-roll song!"

_Autonomy defined as independence._

"Hush, hush! Birthday gifts are meant to be surprises!"

_A will that is driven by motivation and power._

"Gifts are just so exciting, aren't they? They leave a lot for the imagination!"

_Gifts…?_

"Of course they are! You don't know what you're going to get until you have it!"

_Hah…_

"Would you like a gift, kid? We'll make it an exciting surprise!"

**_Don't screw with me._**

* * *

><p>"F-Fucking hell!"<p>

It was probably the millionth time Jeremy Fitzgerald swore on that night. That damn night- "S-Shit—"

His voice was reduced to a mere whisper as he feared that _they _might have heard him. He hugged the bulky Freddy Fazbear's head in his arms, treating it as a prized possession. It was his key to survival, shield against the monstrosities and only mean of defense. For every moment something popped up in front of him, he would make sure his head appeared like Freddy Fazbear's before he soiled his pants.

"Ahaha!~"

_Please, just leave... Leave! _He was choking with fear, his quivering gaze alternating between the cheery face of the malicious balloon child and the darkness before him.

How many of _them _were there in the darkness?

Maybe Chica was there, laughing mockingly at him. Maybe the clown-faced Foxy watching him in silence like ambush predators. Maybe all of the animatronics had gathered, waiting for the golden moment to pounce at him and rip his guts out.

He wished he knew but he couldn't see. He couldn't see as his dumb flashlight wasn't lighting up—

"Hello!~"

_"Shut up already...!"_

Mechanical noises and thumps that grew louder and louder taunted him, causing him to sink further in his seat. He hurriedly slid the Freddy Fazbear's head on, his hand struggling to get the flashlight working and the other constantly winding up the music box in the Prize Corner. He didn't know why maintaining the continuous melody was a priority, but a gut-wrenching fear that something bad might happen forced him not to question.

It was like that Jack-in-the-Box shit that frightened him when he was a kid. He would forever wind up the box if it meant keeping the clown in forever.

Eventually, he freed his head from the suit's headpiece as his head was burning inside it. He was so focused on the blackened doorway that he didn't notice the little child leaving.

When his flashlight finally responded, he was greeted by the unsettling smile of the new Chica model. Her eyes were dark, maintaining the expression of murderous intent. He shone the light directly at the animatronic's visage, aiming to stun her on the spot.

There was no fucking way that he would let her gnaw away at his head. Sure, he liked women who party hard, but this ditzy female who cheers "LET'S PARTY!~" with a creepy cupcake was an absolute 'no-no' on his list.

After a second he'd switch to shining the light on the vents, hoping that no one was already there.

An arm of cerulean shine peeked from the right vent. He nearly felt his bladder give away, retreating to the barely safe den of Freddy's hollow head. Gripping the armrests of his chair, he prayed that he would be left alone. His breaths halted as soon as he saw the blue animatronic inches from his face. It was during this moment that Bonnie's unblinking eyes and misleading grin truly struck him with fear. The unchanging expression of curiosity and pleasant surprise couldn't compare to expressions of any other robot. They made this animatronic look more than just a body of metal and circuitry.

He almost appeared... human.

A blood-thirsty one, at that.

Jeremy's widened eyes dared not to avert from the mechanical bunny, in fear of arousing suspicion. The guard forced his body to keep still, and by now he could hear the loud pounding of his heart within the headpiece. It was so deafeningly loud he was almost certain Bonnie could hear it. Behind the bunny's head was Chica, inspecting him from afar as well. Her yellow head tilted slightly as though trying to recognize Freddy Fazbear's face at a different angle.

_Please turn around... Please leave. Just fucking leave, will you...?!_

With the two animatronics staring him down, he couldn't possibly move any part of his body. Anxiety filled his heart as he knew he was neglecting the music box in the Prize Corner. As he waited, the more his time was wearing thin, yet the time spent on waiting felt like forever.

Seconds seemed like minutes. Minutes seemed like hours. Hours seemed like days.

_Well, you're fucked._

The music should have died down already.

_You're so fucked._

He was almost on the verge of tears as Bonnie edged closer, with Chica already behind the bunny's shoulder. Both shared a similar sadistic smile that would only appear innocent during the day. The smile that kids adored... was nothing an adult would even like. He wasn't sure who it would be to end his life first or how his death would be played out. His imagination was running with the many ways he could be killed besides being stuffed into an animatronic suit. These killer machines looked as though they were capable of anything.

He swallowed a large ball of air, feeling the room become increasingly cold. He was certain that he wasn't just becoming colder because of fear. Sensing another entity in the office, he couldn't identify who it was by sight or hearing alone.

_Ah... Who am I to care? I'll just be dead before morning comes..._

The guard's eyes squeezed shut, a crappy smirk creeping onto his sweaty face. His body relaxed, no longer denying his inevitable fate. He was almost ready to accept the cold, painful embrace of death.

_Goodbye, world—_

And the clock struck six.

* * *

><p>"M-mommy, mommy! Look, look!"<p>

"That's the sixth time you've showed me, sweetie.~"

"B-but look! Looooook!"

Tiredly, the guard looked up to see the dolled up toy spring out of the box, followed by the gleeful laughter of the young boy. He pressed the cooling pad against his forehead, silently groaning beside the door. It was tiresome to hear the loud squeals and annoying laughter, especially when his head was suffering from a splitting headache. He watched the little kid close the box before winding it up again, waiting eagerly to be surprised by the Jack again.

"Bwaaah!~ Mommy, mommy! Look at him!"

He smiled. At least the child was having fun doing the same thing over and over. The mother tended to her child, patting his head and trying to pry him away from the toy. She caught the guard staring at her and smiled awkwardly, mouthing a "sorry" while dragging her kid away. The guard laughed with a dismissive wave of his hand, nodding in understanding.

A pat on his shoulder then startled him, and he turned to see the former security guard whose signature smirk was indelible. "Jeremy Fitzgerald, isn't it? I thought you'd be sleeping in at home!"

"I thought breakfast here would be nice," Jeremy raised his shoulders in a shrug, wiping his mouth with his sleeve to make sure there wasn't any tomato sauce on his lips. The former guard surveyed the Prize Corner, shuffling his feet as part of a habit.

He slurred, a little awkward in this social exchange, "So... ...Uh. How was your first night?"

At that moment, Jeremy froze, goosebumps littering his skin. Images of the events that unraveled hours earlier flashed in his vision, weighing heavily on his esteem. He looked at the guard who smiled at him as though he had no idea what secrets Freddy Fazbear's Family Diner concealed. Enveloped by the atmosphere of mirth and joy, he found it inappropriate to voice the truth. He didn't want to make the business look bad.

He was beginning to think whether or not he was just overreacting. Was he developing an irrational fear of killer robots? Definitely. Were those animatronics really killer robots? He wasn't sure. They did check up on him, sure, but those expressions were nightmare fuel, far from innocence.

Forcing a wry smile, he tugged at his collar, "I-it was okay."

He couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Oh! Well, that's great...! What about that Freddy head I left for ya?"

_It saved my fucking life, for crying out loud. _"It's neat... but it gets a little hot when you wear it for too long."

The other male nodded, his gaze locked onto a small group of toddlers toying around with mechanical parts of the mangled Foxy. He laughed anxiously, scratching the back of his head, "Yeah, uh... They're working on the ventilation part. The head was built for endoskeletons and not human heads, after all."

"I guess," Jeremy leaned against the wall, staring at his shoes. Many questions flooded his mind and he couldn't bear leaving them unanswered until the coming night. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, clenching the inner cloth, "This minor glitch in the system that you mentioned... Is it true that if those animatronics do come into the office, they'd stuff me into a suit?"

Silence filled the conversation for a while before the former guard burst into laughter, "W-whoa, Jeremy, don't get hysterical now! I doubt that'll happen, but it's safe to follow safety procedures.

"Just wear the mask if they do come, and I'm sure they'll leave you alone."

_They probably will after they rip my face off. _"Thanks, I'll be mindful."

Glancing at his watch, the former guard's relaxed expression changed to that of nervousness. He pointed in the direction of the hallway, jogging on the spot as though in a hurry, "Well, I have to run now— Duty calls—"

Jeremy didn't have time to say goodbye, nor did he want to. He watched the uniformed man race down the hall before heaving a soft sigh.

His mind was already wrecked from the early hours. He questioned himself if he was just imagining the worst of possibilities that would never really happen. Killer robots shouldn't exist in this family-friendly diner. The whole idea of murderous machines was ridiculous and laughable but not to him.

He approached the toddlers who were ravaging the disassembled Foxy, scanning the animatronic's face closely. The pinkish tints and powdered face did nothing to convince him that this Foxy was pretty. The machine looked lifeless as it should be, nevertheless.

_... No, they couldn't be hostile._

Kneeling down, he held the limp metallic arm, shaking it a little. It felt cold and heavy but limp like a ragdoll's. The entire endoskeleton moved as he manipulated the movement of a single limb. Sighing, he stood up, brushing any dust off of him.

_Maybe I'm really just being hysterical._

He was about to turn around when a small squeak sounded from the animatronic. It sounded like metal rubbing against metal.

Looking at the mechanical creature, he noticed that the toddlers were too busy fighting over the metal parts and some distance away from the animatronic. He then returned his attention to Foxy, whose mouth parted in a gaping smile.

The fox then blinked, his separate eyes affixed on the man before him. Eyes, animated with life.

Eyes, conveying the disturbing message of bloodlust.

_Oh, you fucker._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: ... ;w; Hi. It was raining hard when I wrote this, and spent the entire afternoon writing this while watching Markiplier's fail-tastic playthrough of FNaF 2. The game chilled me to the bone and it looked really difficult. Furthermore, the story of this game's still shrouded in mystery. Anyway, please review! I'd like constructive criticism since this is my first submission. c:<strong>

**Oh, and fun fact: Jeremy Fitzgerald, the protagonist of FNaF 2, shares the same name as Jeremy Fitzgerald who is a stuntman in movies. In the making of 'The Avengers', he suffered from a head injury on the front of his head! **

**(Frontal lobe is at the front of the head, oh my.)**

**Is Jeremy Fitzgerald the victim of the Bite of '87? o: The plot thickens. **


End file.
